


birds.

by asylumsession



Category: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Anyways, Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot, Blood, Character Death, Doctor Horrible's Sing Along Blog AU, Fluff with a Sad Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Sort Of, Violence, anyways watch dhsab it's good i swear, bakugou still sort of has one, i say as i mark this with major character death, i'm just gonna tell y'all now there's not a happy ending to this sorry not sorry my dudes, tsuyu is.... still a frog, yes all for one is a horse no you can't question me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 10:19:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asylumsession/pseuds/asylumsession
Summary: "The world," he begins, "is a dark, disgusting place."





	1. ACT 1 - THE HIEROPHANT: REVERSED

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey! This was my fic for the MHA Big Bang! I was paired with Mildly Terrible Art (automaticfacecollection) over on tumblr, so make sure you all go give them some love for their blessed art!
> 
> -
> 
> The Hierophant reversed is about breaking the rules and challenging the status quo. You no longer accept the rigid structures, tradition and dogma surrounding you, and now seek out opportunities to rebel and retaliate. You want to challenge ideas and concepts that you once thought of as written in stone.

In his first vlog, Shouto startles at the sight of his face staring back at him. 

He doesn’t recognize himself, hollow cheeks and haunted, sunken eyes, sharp features framed by wisps of red and white hair. He doesn’t recognize the heterochromatic eyes or the parted lips, pink against the dirt-streaked skin. There’s something wild there, lurking beneath this man’s surface: a fire that simultaneously scares and excites Shouto to the core.

_ This _ , he realizes with a start, is  _ Dr. Freeze _ .

The man people know as Todoroki Shouto dies the moment he presses  _ record. _

(“The world,” he begins, “is a dark, disgusting place.”)

\--

The first time Shouto meets Midoriya Izuku isn’t exactly a meeting. It’s more like he’s minding his own business and Izuku sweeps in, bringing warmth and brightness and  _ life _ with him, even though it’s a dreary Sunday and the rain’s been coming down for nearly three days now, a steady rhythm against the pothole-riddled pavement.

Shouto dreads laundry day, generally. The task itself is mind-numbingly boring and monotonous, not to mention being out among the people like this makes him remember exactly  _ why _ he took to vigilantism. He’s standing among these hollow-eyed people with his life in fast motion, while everyone else moves turtle-like around him, all blank stares and detached gazes and  _ pain, pain, pain. _

And then Izuku blows in, and he brings gusts of rain-chilled air and constellations of freckles and wild, soaked hair and wide, wide, wide green eyes and Shouto falls before he can even take a breath. 

Shouto knows, rationally, that they have feet in two very different worlds. A person like Izuku shines much too brightly to live amongst the darkness that Shouto has taken to. Izuku lives in a place where everything is good and pure and right. When he’s a child, his father tells him love is a weakness. For a second, seeing Izuku, seeing this beautiful, soft, bright, bright,  _ bright _ ethereal being sweeping into his life, Shouto almost believes him. But then they lock eyes, half by accident, half because Shouto is staring, and Shouto feels the breath leave his lungs and the doubt leave his mind. 

His father is wrong. His father is always wrong. His father  _ is _ what’s wrong with this world. People like Enji are the reason people like Shouto exists. People like Enji are the reason people like Izuku can’t make strides to help others, the reason people like Shouto are meant to burn. Shouto is far too willing to go up in a blaze if it means he can make the world better.

Izuku smiles at him for the first time that day, fleeting and polite, but Shouto swears the storm clears in wake of the sun. 

(For a second, Shouto feels his own storm leave. For a second, Shouto feels weightless, free. For just a  _ second _ , the constant bitterness just doesn’t exist - and then Izuku turns back to his laundry and it all comes crashing back down at once. Just like that, Shouto remembers exactly why people like him are born with storms in their bodies and chemicals in their blood.)

When he’s young, Shouto learns that birds aren’t meant to be caged. When he’s young, Shouto learns that he’s not meant to be happy. 

When he’s young, Shouto finds a bull-headed shrike with a broken wing in the garden his mother had tended until she’d been sent away. The bird doesn’t fight him when he gently picks it up and tucks it to his chest, half to hide it from his father, half to keep it safe and warm, and carries it inside. Fuyumi is hesitant - she’s always hesitant - but she concedes to him, nonetheless, and Shouto keeps the bird in a shoe box while he helps it heal. 

Enji is not an oblivious man. Shouto is soft then, all hopes and dreams and  _ openness. _ He sees the world through a child’s eyes, even if his view is a little dark at the edges, a little colorless. Enji is harsh, unyielding and cruel, eyes burning with a cold fire and tensed hands haunting Shouto’s dreams. They’re always bruised and beaten, and Shouto is always bruised and beaten and bloody. 

Suffice to say, his father finds out about the bird.

Shouto screams and cries and fights until he’s trembling, but he doesn’t hide it well enough and Enji takes the creature from him roughly by its throat. The sickening snap that follows leaves Shouto’s legs weak, but Todoroki Enji does not break his stride.

Shouto can hardly see his father’s broad back through the tears in his eyes.

Something dies that day. The bird, a part of him, or something else; Shouto isn’t sure anymore. But suddenly everything is cold, colder than it ever should be, and the warmth simply never returns. He grows used to it.

That day, Shouto realizes that birds are not meant to be caged. He thinks he’s a bird, for a while, his wings clipped, Enji’s hands ( _ snap _ ) closed around his neck, but he’s not. Enji thinks he’s a bird, but Shouto knows better. Enji clipped wings when it was claws he should have looked out for. 

When he’s young, Shouto realizes that little boys with matchstick hearts are meant to burn and that he is not meant to be soft and gentle, but to make the world  _ tremble _ at the tips of his merciless fingers. 

The world is not a bird, but a fish. The fish, as they say, rots from the head. So, he figures, why not just cut off the head? The plague would end from its roots. There would be no more treatment of the symptoms, but the cause itself. 

The world,  _ his _ world, would change. It would be  _ good. _

(Later, much, much later, when his world is crumbling around him, Shouto will realize that maybe the world is sort of like that bird, or maybe it’s more like a noose. He feels himself suffocating, either way.)

\--

Sometimes, his vlog followers ask him why he chose the vigilante ( _ vigilante _ , not  _ villain _ ) path. 

“The world,” he tells them, “is a horrible place, full of horrible,  _ disgusting _ people.”

Shouto’s blog grows, and grows, and grows. 

There’s people out there, people who agree with him, who are willing to  _ listen _ , even if it’s just to make fun of him or fawn over him like  _ sheep. _ Shouto dons his half skull mask and faces them, each and every day, speaks to them, hopes that someone will join his cause. 

Shouto doesn’t speak just to say shallow words. 

He’s the Robin Hood of today, the one fighting for a change, taking from the rich to give to the poor, and questioning, always questioning. Unfortunately, he’s a lone soul in a sea of millions upon millions, and he can’t make a single change by himself. 

And thus, he turns to the League. 

They’re a group of villains, given, but he can live with it. They’re the only ones with enough influence to make any change - besides  _ one _ other person, and Shouto doesn’t want to think about him - so despite the risks he’s taking, he has to  _ try. _

“No response from the League yet,” he tells his camera, leaning back, “but my application is strong. I think I’ve got a good chance. Villains are… misunderstood. They have their own ways of wanting change, if not with some rather unconventional methods. It’s just because they step outside of the social norm, but,” he shakes his head, thinks of men like his father, all looming and cruel and above the rules and laws with his  _ money _ and  _ status _ , “how does one destroy monsters like our leaders without becoming one of a different caliber? Nothing can  _ improve _ unless some of us are willing to  _ sacrifice. _ ”

He’s off topic. Shouto shakes his head and reaches for the stack of papers beside his computer. 

“Right, emails,” he murmurs.

Sometimes, he thinks, he gets too passionate and forgets to follow his set procedures. Shouto isn’t generally a passionate person; there’s a sort of cold, a sort of sadness, that settled into the crevices of his chest years ago and never quite left. He tries to shake his haze and focus on the words before him.

“VikTerror… The gold-” Shouto glowers, gaze shooting up to the camera, “I  _ told _ you I did it, didn’t I? I have the gold bars. Or the gold, itself.”  _ Not in bar form, _ he adds silently. “Regardless, it’s not about  _ making _ money. It’s about…  _ Taking _ it. Something to upset the mess, unbalance it,  _ change _ it.”

Very abruptly, he remembers why he’d picked today in particular to vlog. 

“The Freeze Ray,” he says, “is nearly complete. This is going to be the one. It stops time - not shoots ice or something ridiculous like that- Oh, for god’s sake, this guy again. Ultrawind writes, Doctor, I see you are afraid to do battle with your nemesis, I waited at- How many times do I have to say this guy isn’t my nemesis?” He fixes his gaze, steady and cold, on the camera. “My  _ nemesis _ is Ground Zero. It’s people like  _ him _ who run the system. Well, I’ll make sure it blows up in his face.”

And he’s off topic again. Zero never fails to piss Shouto off, even if he’s not present. Just his existence is awful - he’s just a younger version of Enji, vicious and  _ above the law _ , and Shouto  _ despises _ it. There’s that haze again at the edge of his vision, white and red and pulsating. 

“Popstep writes,” he continues, determined to get a distraction, “long time watcher, first time writing, love- Skip, skip, skip… You always say on the blog that you’ll show him a better world, make things right for him. Who is he and does he even know-”

Shouto’s voice stutters to a halt. For a moment, he can’t find his words, left staring at the camera with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. He’s struck, all over again, with the memory of a sunny smile, dazzling green eyes, constellations of freckles, sweaters that are too big, scarred hands, and a name that haunts his dreams. 

Izuku. 

“Oh,” says Shouto, “he’s… The epitome of goodness. It’s like how people always compare that  _ one _ person to the sun… He’s warm and bright and so blindingly- He’s… He’s the world, even if…” Shouto’s shoulders dip. “No, I’m sure he doesn’t even realize I exist.”

It’s pathetic, really, the way he fawns over Izuku. Sometimes, Shouto thinks he isn’t any better than the people he’s condemning. But Izuku isn’t like them - Izuku is soft and careful and thoughtful, and Shouto hasn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.

He syncs up his laundry days with Izuku’s. It doesn’t take long for Shouto to distinguish a pattern - Wednesdays and every second Sunday, Izuku comes in the afternoon to do laundry. Shouto matches the schedule, stays close enough to observe, far enough to avoid notice, and never quite in the right place to really talk to him. 

And to think all he ever wants to say is he likes his freckles or his hair.

(Shouto  _ dreams _ about running his fingers through the curly green strands.) 

Izuku hums softly while he loads his washers, just loud enough for Shouto, two washers down, to hear. He doesn’t recognize the tune, but it’s soft and lilting and he wishes he could hear Izuku sing whatever it is. The closest he’s gotten to a conversation is an awkward half mumble that Izuku seemed entirely oblivious to. 

With his Freeze Ray nearly completed, Shouto’s determined to figure out how to talk to Izuku - one of these days, he’ll tell Izuku how he makes Shouto feel, something that nobody has ever succeeded in doing before. 

Whatever he did here, in this world,  _ to _ this world, he wanted Izuku by his side for. 

“I like your hair,” Shouto blurts, not really pausing to think about the fact that he’d said it out loud until Izuku turns and meets his eyes, eyebrows pinching -  _ oh my god, that’s cute  _ \- in confusion.

“What?” He asks.

Shouto nearly  _ chokes. _ This is his chance. The circumstances were odd, but Izuku was acknowledging him.

Shouto says, “I, ah, love the air.”

Nailed it. 

\--

Shouto very nearly collides with his roommate as he steps out of his lab. She blinks back at him, as unfazed as ever, and waves the mail. 

“Just finish vlogging for the day?” She asks, blinking wide eyes. 

“Oh, Frog. Did you just get back?”

“Call me Tsuyu,” she intones, too accustomed to the response. “I picked up the mail.”

It’s a given, he supposes, taking the mail from her tongue and shaking them off. Tsuyu tips her head at him as he flips through the envelopes.

“How did the beach trip go? Get into any trouble?”   


“Nope,” Tsuyu croaks, “getting past unpermitted areas is easy. Got to save some sea turtles.”

“That’s good,” Shouto murmurs, glancing up ruefully, “I saw Izuku today and acted  _ ridiculous _ , as usual.”

Tsuyu gives him a sympathetic look and Shouto just sighs. If even  _ Tsuyu _ is pitying him, then it’s bad. There’s a part of him who hates what Izuku makes him act like, but he isn’t sure how large or small that part is and frankly, he doesn’t care to find out. 

“Did you talk to him?” Tsuyu asks.

“Sort of? Not really, no. More like I embarrassed myself again.” He shakes his head, turning his attention back to the letters. “I’m so close to a real, non-embarrassing connection with him. I’ll- Oh.” 

Shouto pulls one letter out, flipping it. “This is from the League,” he breathes. 

It’s a nondescript, white envelope, but the stamp makes it obvious enough. There’s only one person - or, animal rather - who uses a horseshoe as a stamp. He holds it up to Tsuyu, who eyes the envelope.

“That’s his stamp, isn’t it? All For One? The Bad Horse, thoroughbred of sin? Shouto, you know you don’t  _ have _ to join an evil group to influence people, right? Vigilantism-”

“Exists only in the dark, Tsuyu. I have to step out.”

He rips the letter open. 

_ Dr. Freeze, _ it reads _ , your application has been received. _

_ However, it is satisfactory at best. We do not look for satisfactory members for the League, but you appear to have potential, so your application requires evaluation. In such a case, a heinous crime, a show of force - murder would be nice, but it’s up to you, really - or such will be required to secure or ruin your chances of getting into the league. As we recall, this is not your first application, but it will be your last.   _

_ Remember, _ it continues, and Shouto holds his breath, heart in his throat,  _ the League is watching. _

“Signed AFO, Bad Horse,” he murmurs, letter crinkling in his hands as he clenches his fingers close to his palms.

_ It will be your last. _

He has one shot. 

Tsuyu eyes him. “Well?”   
  
“I’ve got one last chance,” Shouto sets his jaw, “and it’s perfect. Remember the last ingredient for my freeze ray?”   
  
“Wonderflonium, right?”   
  
“It’s being transported tomorrow. If I do this, Tsuyu…”   
  
“Shouto,” she says again, seriously, “you don’t have to be in the League to make a change.”

Shouto meets her gaze evenly. “I do.”

\--

He never quite escapes his father’s grip. Even now, he dreads this familiar trek up the driveway, to the looming doors with looming memories and a looming presence behind it. He still flinches when Enji raises a hand, even if he’s a grown man and a certified vigilante.

But right now, he isn’t Dr. Freeze. He’s just Shouto. 

(Later, he’ll think about the fact that he’s just Shouto around Izuku, too, and that’s okay. Izuku is good. Izuku is safe.)

Enji is expecting him. It’s like clockwork - Shouto visits, once a week, always on Fridays because Friday is the day Enji is most likely to go out of town. Lately, though, he never does. Shouto considers choosing a different day, hoping for the best, hoping he can keep his head down long enough to do what he needs and put people like Enji where they  _ belong. _

That suffocatingly  _ bitter _ feeling swells in his chest again and he shoves past his father when the door opens. 

Enji reaches out and grabs him by the arm -  _ pain pain pain, his mother’s eyes, horror filled _ \- and scowls. “What, no  _ hello _ to your own father? Disrespectful brat. You act like I didn’t even raise you - no respect, no goals. You’re pathetic.”   


“I have goals,” Shouto bites back, smacking Enji’s hand away. “They’re just not  _ yours. _ ”

“You are in  _ my _ house-”

“Without an option-”

“ _ Nonetheless- _ ”

“Yeah?” Shouto fixes Enji with an icy glare. “And  _ what _ are you going to do if I  _ refuse _ to listen?”

Enji’s eyes narrow. “This rebelliousness of yours has gone on for too long, Shouto. It’s time for you to leave these pointless dreams behind and-”

“What?” Shouto snaps. “Be like  _ you? _ I’ll  _ never _ be like you.”

He’d rather die than become Enji’s perfect little copy to achieve what Enji himself never could. He’d rather  _ die. _

Every time he comes here, another piece of himself dies. Another part shuts down. He becomes less of  _ Shouto _ and more of someone he no longer recognizes. He is becoming something - someone - else now, someone with Shouto’s goals and memories and body but without his mind and being. He’d stopped being a child, stopped being  _ Shouto _ the first time his father had raised a fist to him. Enji had succeeded in something that day, just not what he  _ wanted _ to succeed in.

People like Shouto would set fire to the world and watch it burn with impassive eyes. He would build something new out of the rubble and never look back on the pitiful people left behind. 

He thinks of Izuku, Izuku with soft smiles and scarred hands. He thinks of  _ Izuku _ , Izuku with his dazzling eyes and expanse of freckles and soft, soft humming, and thinks,  _ I wouldn’t let a flame touch him. _

(Enji tells him one day, when he’s a child, taking him roughly by the arm, “You are a weapon, Shouto. And weapons do not weep.”

Shouto hasn’t cried since.)

\--

In most people’s stories, Izuku is but a blip, a word amongst chapters, a smudge upon pages and pages of text - easily forgotten. He is nothing but a passing glance, someone softly refused, quietly turned away from.

(He is unaware of his place in Shouto’s story, chapters upon chapters dedicated to him, but he only knows Shouto passingly, the pretty guy in the laundromat who likes the air.)

Signatures. It’s always signatures. 

Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. This, it appears, is one of the times it isn’t going to work. Izuku likes to consider himself an advocate, but what is he supposed to advocate if nobody is willing to work with him? He only asks them to  _ sign. _

“You don’t even have to read it,” he tries telling one person, but they duck their head and hurry away. 

Izuku grows up wanting to be a hero. 

He has no superpowers, but he has a supportive mother and a father figure who is eager to let him pretend while he cares to. Izuku had never known his father, but he has Inko and Yagi, and that’s all he could ask for. Even if he couldn’t be a hero in the conventional sense, he could be a hero the only way he knew how - helping others. 

Izuku had taken to the life of a volunteer like a moth to a flame. It seemed to call to him, urge him, and standing among these lost and found people, Izuku  _ knew _ he’d found his place. This was his  _ calling _ , to help and support these people who fought  _ so _ hard and clung so desperately to life. 

Izuku grows up with a single mother who gives him the world even when she can barely manage it. Izuku grows up with anything he could need or ask for, and even if they weren’t rich or anything, they were  _ happy. _

(He tried to be.)

It was all he could ask for and all he could ever hope to give. 

\--

Shouto watches the van from the cover of the alleyway. The guard driving gets out and yawns, loping into the building to retrieve the briefcase. Shouto seizes his chance, flinging the receiver to his remote towards the vehicle, where it attaches itself to the top. 

Shouto withdraws the remote to activate it, clicking a button to start the van. This would work. It had to.  _ The League is watching. _

Shouto glances down at the remote to make sure everything works properly, but a voice from behind startles him. 

“Would you-”

Shouto’s never heard it before, but he  _ knows _ that voice. It’s too similar to its humming to be any other person. So Shouto, of course, does what he does best around Izuku - he panics. 

Whirling around, Shouto’s first reaction is to make a rather alarmed sound,  _ twice _ , which startles Izuku, who skitters back like a rabbit. 

“Oh!” He gasps, clutching the board in his hand. 

Shouto makes another distinctively shocked sound, and then, eloquently, adds, “What?”

Izuku seems to collect himself when Shouto does, clearing his throat. “Um, hi. My name is Izuku and I-” He cuts off, abruptly, scrutinizing Shouto. “Oh, I know you!”

If Shouto could have shriveled up and died right then and there he probably would have. There was  _ no _ way Izuku knew him. Izuku was untouchable, out of his reach, out of mind, and always oblivious to Shouto. There was  _ no _ way Izuku knew who he was. Shouto’s gaze darts and he schools his expression into a carefully neutral one.

“Oh, you know me?” He starts, and then, inwardly berating himself, “Yeah, you do.” No, that was  _ still  _ wrong. “Do you?”

“The laundromat, right?” Izuku asks, with a cute little tip of the head. 

Flustered, Shouto blurts, “Wednesdays and every other Sunday except two weeks ago when you didn’t come on Su- Um. If that was you. Could’ve been anybody, I guess.” God, he was awful at this. It was time to stop. “Shouto’s my name, sorry.”

Izuku smiles that smile at him and Shouto practically melts. He can’t believe he’s  _ talking _ to Izuku. 

“My name is Izuku,” he says, and Shouto resists the overwhelming urge to say  _ I know. _

Instead, he glances back down at his remote briefly, and then back at the van. Nothing yet. 

“So, Shouto,” Izuku starts - Shouto nearly drops his phone, gaze snapping up - adjusting the clipboard in his hands again, “I’m actually out here volunteering for the Fatgum Homeless Shelter. Would you mind sparing a minute?”

_ Of course, _ he wants to say,  _ after all, I’m gay and pining after you, of course I’ll always spare a minute. _ But even if he could say that in a normal circumstance - he couldn’t - this was a different case. This was his chance to get into the League, to really step into the light and  _ do _ something. But he lifts his gaze and Izuku’s soft green eyes blink back at him. Shouto relents.

“Okay, go,” he says, fixing his gaze on the other boy, who visibly straightens from a previously discouraged slump.

“Well,” Izuku launches into what is undoubtedly a speech he’s given many times before, “we’re expanding our efforts and hoping to open up a new location. There’s this old office building down the block that the city is planning to just demolish, but if we get enough signatures, then we can convince them to give it to our cause instead.”   


“Oh,” says Shouto, as his phone beeps incessantly at him. He dares a glance down. Soon. 

“We would be able to provide new beds, clothes, food, hot showers, and other things to people when we get them off the street,” Izuku continues, but Shouto is distracted now, “and into job training, so they- I’m sorry. You’ve lost interest.”

“No!” Shouto replies, a bit too fast, a bit too loud. “No. You’re fine. This is just… important? Yeah. Important. I’d love to sign your petition.”

Izuku positively  _ beams _ at him. Shouto’s breath leaves - Izuku’s entire face  _ lights up _ , leaving Shouto reeling enough that he barely realizes when he signs it. 

“Sorry,” he finally murmurs, “I tend to come on either strong or mean.”

“But you signed,” says Izuku, smiling warmly. “Thank you.”   


Shouto decides Izuku is making a valiant effort to kill him. “Of course,” he manages anyways and watches Izuku’s retreating back ruefully, before his phone beeps particularly loudly and he drags his attention back to the van, watching the guard put the case he needs in the back. 

Izuku had talked to him. They’d  _ spoken. _ But why  _ now _ of all times? Shouto catches himself hesitating, gazing longingly after Izuku. He can see his retreating back, a little hop to his step. He’s humming, Shouto thinks, and he wants to hear it. But Shouto’s feet remain rooted in place as Izuku’s form grows further and further, always out of reach. 

Had Izuku ever really been within Shouto’s reach? Or was he stuck craving after something he’d never had a chance with to begin with? 

Izuku is good. Izuku is safe. Izuku would never look twice at Shouto. Shouto turns his gaze away from Izuku and to the van, stooping in a low stairwell to yank his day clothes off from his costume. It’s just a white jumpsuit, straps crisscrossing across his waist and wrapping his shoulders, but the skull-shaped half mask completes it. 

He is no longer Shouto, the hopeful child who longs for things he cannot have. He is  _ Freeze, _ Doctor Freeze, vigilante, and this is what he must do. Izuku always lingers in his mind, eternally smiling behind his eyelids, but Shouto knows that Izuku is always out of his reach.

But right now, the  _ League _ isn’t, and Shouto knows what he must do. For now, he has to forget Izuku - the League  _ must _ take priority. 

He focuses his full attention on the van, starting it from where he’s hidden in the alley and steering it down the side street where he’ll meet it to retrieve the wonderflonium from the back. He couldn’t let this plan fall apart - it’s his last shot to get into the League, to make a difference, to take matters into his own hands. 

Shouto thinks of men like his father, powerful and cruel. These are the people who rule now, the ones he wants to wrench control from. He thinks of people like Izuku, soft and warm and caring. These are the people who  _ deserve _ to run the world, people with genuine goodwill and warm hearts. These are the people Shouto wants to give the world to. Izuku. He wants to give the world to Izuku.

He thinks of men like  _ Ground Zero _ , all explosive words and wicked grins and pompous words and black boots on the top of the van-

Shouto does not consider himself a religious man, but his first instinct is to hiss, “Oh, for  _ God’s _ sake.”

Ground Zero cackles, planting his feet into the steel. He is the epitome of  _ animalistic _ , baring white teeth in a shark-like grin, shoulders angled in and palms out like he’s preparing to attack. People stop and stare when he appears, waving arms and calling out for his attention. He doesn’t hesitate, crushing Shouto’s remote control and hopping off as Shouto loses control of the van. 

_ Bitter _ doesn’t cut it anymore. Shouto is  _ so _ far beyond bitter. 

He also can’t control the van, which wouldn’t be as much of an issue if it had just stopped when Zero had crushed his controller. It hadn’t, however, and was still driving, swerving across the street, down the side road where Shouto waits, and- 

Shouto’s blood runs cold. 

_ Izuku. _

He’s not paying attention, gaze down on his signature sheet until someone shouts. Slowly, the green eyes that haunt Shouto’s dreams raise, fixing on the rapidly approaching van, wide and shocked like a deer, lips parted. He goes still, signature sheet slipping from his grasp. 

_ No, _ Shouto thinks, jabbing the brake button.  _ No, no, no. Stop.  _

He lifts his gaze again, panicked, ready to launch himself in between the van and Izuku, when Zero comes plummeting, landing heavily between them and shoving Izuku into a pile of trash bags. Shouto’s finger comes down on  _ brake _ one last time, his attention fixed on Izuku’s form flying and vanishing into the black plastic before Zero puts out a hand to stop the van himself.

It halts, centimeters from his palm. 

Shouto sees him shrug, but he’s already dropping his phone - the  _ real _ reason the van had stopped - and racing over, fury and concern swirling in his blood. He isn’t sure which part is stronger, but Ground Zero happens to be a more convenient target, so the fury wins regardless. 

“You idiot,” Shouto spits, feeling like the embodiment of fire himself.

Zero turns, grinning that razor grin of his. “ _ Well, _ if it isn’t Doctor Dumbass himself,” he sneers, “I should have known  _ you _ were behind this shit.”

The insults go in one ear and out the other. He’s already moving to grab for the blond hero, snarling, “You could have killed him.”

“I,” Ground Zero starts, and in an instant, black gloved fingers close around Shouto’s throat, “remember it differently.”

For a moment, Shouto is overwhelmed. He doesn’t see Ground Zero, he sees Enji Todoroki, a snarl on his lips, a curse, a promise, a god given swear. He sees his father, the embodiment of hell and all things bad looming over him, fist raised, poised to strike- 

And then he remembers Izuku, frozen like a deer in headlights as the van barrels towards him, and Shouto snaps out of it, his own fingers gripping Zero tightly around the wrist. He can’t breathe, but Izuku is his main concern now. 

“He-” Shouto starts, but Zero cuts him off again.

“It’s curtains for you, Freeze,” he says, teeth bared tauntingly, “lacy fucking curtains.”

Shouto wouldn’t have replied one way or another - mostly because Zero is still cutting off his air - but his attention is drawn away by a rustling in the bags. Izuku drags himself out, hair more wild than usual and clothing disheveled, but  _ alive _ and  _ uninjured _ , and Shouto probably would have breathed a sigh of relief if he’d been able to. 

“Ground Zero,” Izuku breathes, a sort of awe in his voice, a light in his eyes, even as he stumbles out of the trash bags, “you saved my life.”

Now Zero’s attention is drawn away. Shouto sees the connection, sees the way their eyes lock, and instantly, he knows that even without Zero’s hand around his throat, he would not be able to breathe. His heart drops. Izuku had always been unattainable, hadn’t he? Shouto can’t help it; his chest wrenches and even the jarring pain when Zero tosses him aside carelessly doesn’t hurt as much as the ache behind his ribs

“Don’t worry about it,” Zero’s saying, feet turning away, towards Izuku, holding his gaze, taking his hand and him and any chance Shouto had ever had. 

Shouto is vaguely aware that he’s still on the ground. There’s a haze around the edge of his eyes, and he turns his head to watch Izuku staring at Zero with adoration in his wide eyes. He’d only ever wanted Izuku to look at  _ him _ like that. Not Zero. 

_ Stop looking at him like that, _ he thinks, but Izuku and Ground Zero are in a world of their own. 

Shouto knows best when he’s unnecessary. 

(Zero reaches out, touches Izuku’s face. “The only doom that’s looming you is loving me to death,” he tells him, and Shouto watches Izuku  _ melt. _

He takes the wonderflonium from the back of the van and limps away.)


	2. ACT II - JUDGEMENT: UPRIGHT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Judgement card suggests that you have had a recent epiphany or an ‘awakening’ where you have come to a realisation that you need to live your life in a different way and you need to be true to yourself and your needs. You have opened yourself up to a new possibility – to lead a fulfilling life that serves your higher needs and that offers inspiration and hope to others. You feel as though you have had a ‘calling’ in life, and you are getting much closer to the point where you need to take action. Something that was lying dormant within you, some unconscious knowledge or truth is finally being awakened and brought into the light.

Shouto keeps staring at himself in the camera. 

After the heartbreak, he’s stuck with an overwhelming sense of numbness, and he almost prefers the pain. At least he’d felt  _ something. _ Now, he only feels like there’s a hole in the chest, and no matter how much he claws at his skin, he can’t get to it. He knows, rationally, that he shouldn’t feel like this. He wants to give the world to Izuku, but Izuku barely knows he exists.

Izuku makes Shouto feel like he’s someone worth  _ something _ , a feeling he hasn’t known for a long, long time. Shouto’s hands aren’t clean, of course, and they never would be - sacrifices had to be made for the betterment of the whole - but even so, he would have held Izuku up like a king, he would have carried him home when he was ready to sleep. He would have held Izuku’s scarred hands and so carefully, so gently, kissed each scar. 

Shouto keeps staring at himself in the camera. 

Lately, he is all angles, all hallows and darkness. He doesn’t recognize  _ Shouto _ anymore. He stares at his hands; they’re hardened and scarred and rough from years of fighting and fighting and fighting, a faded scar below the third knuckle of his left hand, a small cut over the first knuckle of his right, and skin that feels rough to the touch. He hates his hands - they’re too large and too awkward and too ugly and too used to nothing but receiving and inflicting pain upon pain upon pain.

Staring at his rough hands, Shouto wonders if he is genuinely unloveable. He wonders if  _ this _ , if  _ he _ is the sacrifice necessary to better the world. 

He feels like he’s suffocating. 

Shouto snatches up his jacket and yanks it on as he pushes past Tsuyu and out of their shared apartment. 

There’s still a distinctive haze around the edge of his vision that comes with Izuku’s absence, Izuku’s new relationship, with  _ Zero _ of all people. The world seems colorless, gray and disgusting and  _ poisonous  _ and _ vile _ and Shouto’s disgust swells until he  _ despises _ it. Humanity has gone insane - Shouto’s sure of it. At this point, he doesn’t even know if poisoning the water main would change anything. 

He thinks of men like his father, crushing anyone who dares step into his path. He thinks of men like his father, with their chokehold grip on the lives of others, shredding dreams and shattering hopes like glass.

He hadn’t seen it until now, not really, but the world truly is a  _ disgusting _ place. He thinks of men like Ground Zero and his father, filth and lies polluting humanity, blinding everyone to the truth. But not Shouto. Shouto’s eyes are suddenly open. He’d seen it before, of course, but now it was truly visible just how awful the world was. 

Behind the numbness, there’s a  _ twist. _

(And yet.)

He can’t quite bring himself to let Izuku go. He tails them when he can, in any disguise he can think of, fakes being a server at the homeless shelter to watch the way Izuku  _ smiles _ at Zero. He sees the way Izuku sees the good in everything, even if Shouto himself can’t. Shouto only sees good in Izuku. 

Izuku, who has the purest heart and clean intentions that Shouto has ever known. Izuku, the only reprieve Shouto knows, the only song he wants to repeat, with a laugh like home and a smile like the sun. 

“Look around,” Izuku’s saying, voice soft, “I have so much respect for these people. They’ve lost everything, but they’re still surviving. I think they’re the epitome of goodness in this world - but everyone’s got a little bit of good in them, don’t you think? I just want to do my part in the world, and if helping people like this is what I can do, then I want to do it to the best of my ability. I- Oh, I’m sorry. I’m going on again.”

_ No, _ Shouto thinks,  _ please, keep going. _

But Zero just smiles something that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. So, uh, how long were we going to be here?”

_ Twist. _

Shouto half leaps into the cold air outside. He wants to scream. He wants to scream and shout and curse the skies and heavens, but he can only take ragged, furious inhales, sharp exhales forming swirling white clouds in the air. Shouto can’t remember the last time he cried, but there’s a sharp, cold stinging behind his eyes as he beats the side of his fist on the brick wall of the building. 

Somewhere on the other side of this wall, Izuku is sitting with Ground Zero, who doesn’t look like he could care less about Izuku’s interests or pursuits. Shouto  _ aches. _ Maybe he’s destined to care so much about this boy that it kills him - Shouto can feel the light, the joy, the happiness racing from his life, and Izuku doesn’t seem to care. 

Shouto knows he’s selfish. He craves Izuku, wants Izuku to care for him and only him. But he can’t have that. He never could have. There’s a brand of darkness that settles into Shouto’s chest and makes a home there; it never quite leaves, just spreads, spreads, spreads, swallowing Shouto’s heart and mind and drowning the light. 

Soon, he thinks, it will be all that remains. 

_ And yet- _

Shouto takes a slow, trembling breath and leans against the door. Izuku is on the other side of this door. Shouto presses his palm flat to the surface, pretending Izuku’s presses against it from the other side. He rests his forehead against the door and  _ acts _ like Izuku is leaning against it from the other side. 

He’s not, Shouto knows, squeezing his eyes shut, breath spilling white clouds around his red-tinged cheeks. He’s not. 

Shouto knows Izuku will never love him the way he loves Izuku. But it was okay to pretend, wasn’t it? Shouto opens his eyes, fixing his stare on the door. 

Somehow, it seems he always ends up being the one on the outside looking in. 

Shouto isn’t a bad person.

(And  _ yet-! _ )

He hears Izuku, he hears that laugh that he wants to sink into, hears the sound that Shouto would let  _ swallow _ him. Shouto steps back, and the darkness blankets him like a promise.

“It’s so dumb,” Izuku says, the next Sunday, shoulder to shoulder with Shouto, “that we’ve been coming here all this time and never spoken.”

“Yeah,”  _ I wish you wouldn’t smile like that,  _ “it’s… insane. All these months doing a stunningly boring chore…”

Izuku pauses, tipping his head. “I like doing laundry.”

“-just kidding!” Shouto changes courses mid-sentence, forcing a smile. “I like it too!”

Izuku puts on that soft smile again, fingers defly folding sleeves, tucking ends, and stacking his clothes. He puts careful delicacy into everything he does, deliberately and caringly putting his all into every action, no matter how tiny. Shouto admires that - he can be rash himself, doing things without thought for what the outcome could be. Tsuyu would probably argue that it applied to his world changing goals, but Shouto disagreed. 

Izuku is talking, and Shouto is ripped clean from his thoughts.

“-the smell of fabric softener, the feeling of warm clothes… It’s the little things, you know? They’re nice to enjoy while you can.” 

Just like that, Shouto’s distracted again, watching Izuku’s scarred hands smooth over the top of his stack, carefully flattening the creases. His gaze traces the scars, crisscrossing Izuku’s hands and arms, and he can’t help but wonder where they’d come from; what kind of life had Izuku lived? Had he been bullied? Abused? By himself or someone else? Shouto didn’t know, but he _did_ know he wanted to learn everything about Izuku. He wanted to be the one who kissed his scars and his forehead and nose and _him_. Shouto wanted to be the one Izuku came to when he was happy and sad and angry and excited. 

( _ But it’s Zero. It’s always Zero. _ )

Shouto tears his gaze away with a soft hum of acknowledgment, setting his last shirt into his basket. After just a brief moment of hesitation, he reaches a bit further and draws a white bag over, grabbing the frozen yogurt cups within. 

“Oh,” he starts, as casually as he can manage, “that’s weird.”

Izuku’s gaze lifts from the laundry to fix on Shouto, questioning. He tips his head and Shouto’s heart pangs. “What is?”

“I only bought one yogurt and they gave me two,” he pinches his eyebrows, thanks any god that exists for his at least decent ability to act, and pulls the two containers out of the bag. “You wouldn’t happen to like frozen yogurt, would you?”

Izuku visibly brightens. “I love it, actually!”

“You’re kidding,” Shouto holds one out. “What a coincidence. You can have it; here.”

There’s that soft smile again - the one that makes Shouto  _ melt. _ Izuku accepts it with a soft  _ thank you _ and hops up to sit on the counter by the washers while he waits for his second load. He visibly brightens when he opens the lid - Shouto, mostly through tailing Izuku’s dates with Zero, had since learned Izuku’s favorite flavor. 

“This is my favorite!” Izuku beams. 

_ I know, _ Shouto almost says but bites his tongue in favor of smiling. “Oh, really? That’s great, I’m glad.”

“Thank you, Shouto,” Izuku murmurs, dipping the spoon in. 

_ Well, _ thinks Shouto, as his heart acrobats its way to his throat,  _ fuck. _

Shouto coughs into his shoulder. “So, uh. How was your weekend?” He asks, leaning up against the counter next to Izuku. “Were you hunting for wild signatures?”

“Actually,” Izuku admits, red staining his face, making his freckles more prominent, “I kind of um, went on a date?”

_ I know. _ “Oh? How did that go?”    
  
Shouto has to tear his gaze away from the soft,  _ soft _ and so  _ fond _ smile that crosses Izuku’s lips. He  _ hates _ the way the thought of Zero makes Izuku’s entire countenance just  _ soften. _ Shouto wants to tell him  _ he doesn’t care about you, _ but he keeps his mouth shut. He just wants Izuku to be happy - and if it isn’t with  _ him _ , then Shouto will just have to learn to deal with it. 

“I thought he was kind of… Well, he was  _ something- _ ”

_ Trust your instincts,  _ Shouto nearly blurts. 

“-but it ended up being really nice, actually.” Izuku laughs now, and it takes everything in Shouto not to  _ flinch. _ “He ended up being sweet. I guess people are layered like that, you know? There’s something completely different underneath than there is on the surface.”

_ No, _ Shouto thinks,  _ I don’t know. _ And he doesn’t - everyone he knows is so one dimensional; everyone he knows shows their face when they meet him and put up a persona around people they can  _ manipulate, _ like Izuku. People like Enji do it. People like  _ Zero _ do it. 

But Shouto murmurs, “Yeah. Are you going to see him again?”

He knows the answer before Izuku says it, but  _ god _ does he hope for something else. 

“I think so, yeah,” Izuku replies, and he smiles a blinding smile, a smile that shines like the sun after an eternity of darkness. “Definitely.”

Shouto forces a smile. “I’m… happy for you.”

He wants to be. But Shouto isn’t sure if he really  _ can. _

Shouto forces himself to resist the overwhelming urge to drive his spork into his leg, but Izuku’s washer goes off just in time and the other man bounds off to collect his clothing. 

\--

Shouto drops unceremoniously into his chair and turns on his camera. The sight of the man staring back at him makes him reel back - the person staring back looks desperate, gaze wild, even as half of his face is hidden behind a skull-shaped mask. Gradually, he’s losing recognition of who he is - physically, at least. Perhaps, he thinks, it’s something to do with losing Izuku to  _ Zero _ of all people.

He shakes off the thought and presses  _ record. _

“Right,” he starts, “the wait is over. With the addition of the wonderflonium… The Freeze Ray is officially complete. Yes, the heist was successful; or successful in the aspect that I completed my objective. It was considerably  _ less _ successful in the fact that I inadvertently introduced my worst enemy to the guy of my dreams and now he’s taking him on  _ dates _ and they’re probably  _ kissing _ and oh  _ god- _ ” Shouto halts, abruptly recalling that yes, this is live, and clears his throat. “Freeze Ray. Right. If all goes according to plan, this is what could land me in the League.”

Perhaps, once he was in the League, he could help Izuku to see what kind of person Zero  _ really _ was. Once he was in the League, Shouto wouldn’t have to worry about men like his father anymore. Once he was in the League, he could really  _ do  _ something about the darkness in the world - even if it meant taking it all on himself. 

Shouto inhales and fixes his gaze on the camera. “See you in the aftermath.”

The aftermath, as it tends to be, comes much sooner than anticipated. 

Suffice to say, Shouto is a  _ little _ bitter. Just a  _ bit. _ (Read: A lot.)

“Okay,” he says, the moment his camera is recording again, ignoring how god awful he looks, “so the Freeze Ray needs a  _ little _ work. Apparently, I  _ also _ need to be a  _ little _ more careful about what I say here. The police  _ and _ Ground Zero are… part of our audiences. They were waiting for me and, as it turns out, the Freeze Ray needs a moment to warm up.”

Shouto coughs into his shoulder, purses his lips, and clasps his hands together in front of him.

“I had a car thrown at me today. It’s very traumatizing.”

He’s preparing himself to go on, but his phone beeps at him and he hesitates only a moment before answering. 

“ _ Doctor. _ ”

The voice on the other side is one of a boy, perhaps a little older than him, childish and tinged with something unnerving. He’d heard of All For One’s right hand, Tomura, but he’d never  _ heard _ him. This had to be him; every part of Shouto was screaming in confirmation, and it nearly slipped his mind that he was recording. He doesn’t have a chance to do anything about it; the voice is continuing. 

“ _ Teacher saw your little… operation, today. Your humiliation displeased him. You should know his opinion matters most, and as of right now, he still says no. Guess what, Doctor? Now cold-blooded murder is the only way to get into the League! Isn’t that exciting? Better kill someone; remember, this is your last chance to get into the League. Teacher is watching. _ ”

The dial tone and his own pale face greet him as his blood runs cold.

“Oh,” he breathes, meets his own eyes in his screen, and ends the recording. 

Tsuyu comes the moment he calls for her. The situation is out in the open within moments, and Shouto is hyper-aware of himself, hands trembling with a practiced subtlety. It’s been a long time, he realizes, since he felt this sort of dread. Normally, it’s so easy to be confident about these things; the only time he feels otherwise is around Izuku and Zero and  _ Enji. _

Shouto  _ hates _ it.

“Would you do it?” Tsuyu asks him softly, shattering the room’s delicate silence. “Are your causes really worth  _ murder _ to you, Shouto?”

“I-” Shouto hesitates. “I don’t know. Yes? No. Killing… killing isn’t my style. I don’t want to  _ kill _ anybody.”

Tsuyu watches him for a second, really scrutinizes him, and then sighs, rests her head against his, and falls silent again. Shouto doesn’t have to say anything for her to understand that her presence is a very much needed thing; it’s comforting to him. He doesn’t really know how he came to be friends with someone like Tsuyu, someone who had only entered the vigilante business because she wanted to protect the world and its creatures from pollution and poachers, but he’s beyond grateful that she’s here now.

Blunt and good at reading people or not, Tsuyu’s presence is a calming one that Shouto’s lucky to have. 

She doesn’t push him. Tsuyu just lets him sit there in silence with her as long as he needs to, lost dwelling in dark thoughts that had never dared show themselves in his mind before. For just a moment, Shouto is  _ scared. _ For just a moment, he’s a child again, hiding under his bed. He’s a child again, clawing at his face as a kettle screeches all around him, loud, louder than he could ever scream. 

_ Would you kill for your ideals, Shouto? _

Shouto isn’t sure whether he’s more terrified of the fact that he doesn’t know the answer or the fact that he gave it thought in the first place.

Shouto doesn’t sleep that night.

\--

Shouto dreads going to the laundromat on Sunday, but his schedule was set now and he needs to get it done. He could only hope Izuku isn’t there - Shouto doesn’t know if he can handle seeing Izuku right now. His mind is brewing, swirling with dark things that he would never want Izuku to see. 

Izuku isn’t there when Shouto first arrives, but as it is, nothing seems to be in Shouto’s favor.

Izuku comes sweeping in the door, radiant and bright. His eyes search the room and find Shouto, who he immediately crosses towards. Shouto should have expected this, really, but here he is. Somehow, Izuku’s smile quiets the viciousness in his head. Shouto smiles a tired smile.

“Hey,” he greets.

“Hi, stranger,” Izuku laughs, “I bought yogurt.”

Shouto sets his washer and closes the lid. “You’re a gift.”

Izuku passes the bag to Shouto to get everything out while he loads his clothing into the washer beside Shouto’s with a perfected hand, movements quick and sure and calm. Shouto briefly recalls Izuku saying he enjoys laundry - there’s something soft and domestic about the way Izuku bounces on his heels and hums as he goes about the task.

Once Izuku closes the lid of his washer, he hops up to sit on the edge, rolling up the sleeves of his frayed blue sweater. He accepts his frozen yogurt from Shouto when the latter offers it out, popping the lid and digging in with a cheerful little smile.

“So,” Izuku starts, “how have you been? You look kind of troubled.”

Shouto resists the urge to flinch. “Is it that obvious?” He sighs. “It’s just… This job. I think I’m fairly qualified for it, but I can’t seem to get my foot in the door.”

“Well,” says Izuku, “if you’re  _ really _ determined to get this job,  _ I _ think you’ll be fine. Anybody would be stupid not to hire you, Shouto.”

_ I guess, _ Shouto thinks, leaning against his washer and staring at a dryer opposite to him as the clothes swirl around. “I just want to do great things. I want to make a change in the world… like All For One.”

Izuku coughs. “All- The thoroughbred of sin?”

Realizing his slip up, Shouto straightens. “Gandhi. I meant Gandhi. My mind was on this article I read yesterday… Sorry.”

God, when had he started apologizing so much?

Izuku looks hesitant but goes with it anyway. “Well,” he continues, “I’ve been rejected from plenty of jobs. And fired a few times. It’s just life, you know?”

“I can’t imagine anyone firing you,” Shouto replies thoughtlessly, mind on how kind and perfect Izuku was. How could anyone just  _ fire _ someone like that?

Izuku laughs. “Well, I couldn’t then, but I sure can now. But, you know, everything happens-”

Shouto turns to look at Izuku over his shoulder. “Please don’t say  _ for a reason. _ ”

Izuku frowns. “I wasn’t going to. I was just saying… Everything happens.”

Shouto sticks his spoon in his yogurt. Suddenly, the thoughts are back full force, swirling behind his eyes, an inky blackness threatening to swallow his soul whole. He stares down at the frozen yogurt, swirling with chocolate chips and almonds. It seems as though he’s lost his appetite.

“Not to me,” he murmurs, setting the dessert aside.

Izuku reaches out, fingers brushing over Shouto’s shoulder. The contact sends a shock racing down his spine, and Shouto straightens, turning to look at Izuku once more. His green eyes are soft with understanding. 

If love was a weakness, then Shouto was  _ so _ beyond weak.

“Can I tell you a story, Shouto?” Izuku asks, tilting his head. 

Shouto holds his breath and only manages a nod. 

“Okay,” Izuku drums his fingers the washer, “there was once a boy who grew up lost and lonely. He had everything he could need to be happy, but he was so convinced that love was a fairytale and trouble was made only for him.”

_ Only for me, _ Izuku’s eyes say. Shouto exhales. Shouto  _ understands. _ He dares to creep closer, fingers hovering over Izuku’s knee and finally settling there.

“What happened to him?” Shouto urges.

Izuku smiles, hand settling over Shouto’s. “He found light in the world. He realized that even in the darkness, every color could be found and that no matter how much it rains it’s not a bad thing, because it helps plants grow and the Earth replenish itself.”

He glances down, and then draws his hand away with a start, as though remembering he’s dating someone now. Izuku slides off of the washer and crosses to the window, where the sunlight reflects off the puddles of leftover rainwater. Shouto watches him place his palm against the window, gazing out into the city beyond.

“It’s easy to achieve your dreams when the only thing you want to be is  _ hope. _ I just want to provide people with hope, that’s all. That’s all I seek in my life. That’s what got me through - I knew that every time I was hurt, someone else had it worse.”

_ You have, _ Shouto thinks. God, Izuku has put so much hope in Shouto’s heart that Shouto doesn’t know what to do with it anymore. He steps forward to stand next to Izuku, who reaches out to take his hand again, smiling that soft smile. Shouto is weak under his gaze, but he is aware of the subtle way Izuku’s hand trembles.  _ Even if someone has it worse, _ he thinks,  _ that doesn’t invalidate your pain, Izuku.  _

The words stick in his throat. They’re painful to swallow back down.

“So, just… Keep your head up, Shouto. Okay?”

Shouto abruptly realizes how close Izuku is. His breath catches, gaze flickering from green eyes to splattered freckles to soft looking lips. Izuku is  _ right there _ , and for a moment, Shouto watches the realization dawn across Izuku’s features.

And then he’s drawing back, releasing Shouto’s hand, and averting his gaze.

“It’s like Ground Zero is always saying…”

“Right,” Shouto recoils like he’d been burned, “how are things going with Mr. Perfect?”

“Good,” Izuku says quickly, smiling awkwardly. “They’re good.”

Shouto doesn’t like this - this  _ distance _ between them. He wants to be close to Izuku again, wants to touch his surprisingly soft hands and count his freckles and run his fingers through Izuku’s hair. 

Izuku won’t even look him in the eye. It  _ aches. _

“Actually,” Izuku continues, gaze drifting towards the window, “I’ll be interested to know what you think of him. He said he might stop by today.”

Shouto feels his blood run cold. “Stop by… here?”

“Yeah,” Izuku confirms, nodding.

“Oh,” Shouto looks down at his wrist, smiles tightly at Izuku, and takes a step back. “Uh. I have to go, actually.”

Izuku pinches his eyebrows. “But what about your clothes.”

“I don’t like those clothes anyways,” Shouto replies quickly, whirling around and hurrying towards the door.

Unfortunately, as it seems to be, luck isn’t on his side. He collides with someone solid coming in and takes a step back. Immediately, dreadfully familiar blond hair and irritated red eyes come into view, fixed on Shouto.  _ Zero. _

“Oi, maybe you’d better watch where the  _ fuck _ you’re going,” he snarls.

Izuku crosses between them, touching Zero’s arm. “Zero,” he murmurs, “this is Shouto. My friend?”

Zero watches him closer now, eyes narrowed. “The fuckin’ laundry buddy? Nice to meet you or whatever, I guess.”

God, Shouto had known Zero had a mouth on him, but somehow it seemed  _ worse _ now. Zero is still watching him, scrutinizing, as if trying to figure out where he’d seen Shouto before.

“Yeah,” Shouto mutters, “you too. I have to go, so if you’d ex-”

“You look chillingly familiar,” Zero continues, crossing his arms. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

Shouto’s sigh of relief is covered as Zero carries on, turning to Izuku.

“So, d’ya wanna know the shit the mayor is doing behind closed doors, or what?  _ If _ I recall correctly, he’s signing over a certain building to volunteer group as a homeless shelter."

Shouto watches the way Izuku lights up. It’s slow at first as the realization dawns on him, and then bright, all at once, blinding and serene. His ear tips turn red and his eyes visibly brighten, chest rising with an excited breath.

“Oh my god,” he laughs, “are you serious? I can’t… I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah,” Zero grins his feral grin, “all they needed was  _ my _ fucking signature and the deal was sealed.”

“Congratulations,” Shouto murmurs, but he knows Izuku isn’t listening to him.

Izuku reaches out and takes both of Zero’s hands, holding them close to his chest. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” 

Izuku leans in and Shouto turns his gaze away. He can hear the sound of them kissing, but he can’t bring himself to see it. Behind them, the buzzer on Izuku’s laundry goes off. It occurs to Shouto that his must have gone off already, but he doesn’t dare go back for them.

“I’ve got to get those,” Izuku beams, hurrying past Shouto.

“Well,” Shouto says, “as great as this all is, I wish I could stay and chat, but-”

He moves to step past Zero, but Zero’s hand darts out, taking Shouto’s arm in an iron grip. Shouto goes still, thoughts flying through memories of Enji and tight holds and  _ pain _ and Ground Zero is smiling. His gaze lingers on Izuku a moment, before shifting, tauntingly slowly, to Shouto.

“Well,” Zero drawls, “it was  _ lovely _ meeting you,  _ Doctor. _ ”

_ He knows. _ The realization hits Shouto like a truck.

Ground Zero sneers at Shouto, eyes fiery and expression cruel. “Got a crush, heh? That’s gonna make this a bitch to hear - Izuku? See, later, I’m going to take him back to my place, give him a little tour of the launchpad.” His grip is tight, too tight. Shouto can’t breathe. Why can’t he breathe? He feels like there’s a rope around his throat, tightening to more Zero speaks. “You think he likes me  _ now? _ I’ll give Izuku the night of his  _ fucking _ life, just to spite you. He’s giving it up, Freeze. He’s giving it up hard. You never had a snowball’s chance in  _ hell. _ He’s with Ground Zero, now.”

And then Zero lets go, raises his fists, and looks Shouto dead in the eye. 

“And  _ these _ are not the bomb.”

Shouto’s stomach flips. He feels like he’s going to be sick. Zero grins wickedly, jabbing his thumb down. 

“The  _ bomb _ ,” he informs Shouto, “is my penis.”

There’s a too familiar  _ twist _ in Shouto’s chest.  _ I got it, _ he thinks, fiercely, viciously, but his tongue stays still in his mouth, unfamiliar and tangled. Izuku crosses by him, taking Zero’s hand. He smiles at Shouto and turns away, heading towards the door. Zero smirks back and follows Izuku out. 

Shouto isn’t sure what was left of the Todoroki Shouto he’d known, but it withers and dies the moment the door closes. Suddenly, everything seems so  _ clear. _

_ A murder, _ the League had told them. 

At first, it’d been such a conflict for him. Morally, murder was so  _ awful. _ There was no point in killing people to achieve a cause. But then it’d been proposed to him and he’d  _ hesitated. _ He knew why. He’d know this whole time and just refused to admit it to himself.

People like Enji and Ground Zero  _ deserved _ to die. 

For the world to improve, the few must be sacrificed for the betterment of the majority.

_ Astounding, _ Shouto thinks,  _ to think that Ground Zero of all people would be the one to show me the light. _ He’d sworn, hadn’t he? He’d sworn to eliminate the worst of humanity’s problems and restore order to this ailing world of theirs. Shouto was starting down a path he’d never even thought to consider before, water rising up around his knees and still going  _ up, _ but Shouto can see the light at the end of the tunnel. He can see his course. 

Suddenly, nothing else matters. All the times Zero stopped him, hurt him, all the times Enji threatened him, landed blow after blow after blow - it was irrelevant. Suddenly, everything was  _ sure _ and right, and he’d show them. He’d show Zero and Enji and the League and most importantly, Izuku. 

The future was bright.

Shouto feels as though it’s a new day - the sun is finally peeking through the clouds, the birds and angels are singing, and he’s  _ sure  _ of his path for the first time in a long time. 

And  _ oh, _ Ground Zero is going to  _ die. _


End file.
